


The Coldest Goodbye

by ailiyasneski



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Constantly being Edited, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Psychological Torture, cold war au, owen needs a break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailiyasneski/pseuds/ailiyasneski
Summary: “Owen, calm down!” He swiped his hand away from Owen’s shoulder, pulling away. Owen turned to face him.“I can't calm down, Curt! I knew this was a bad idea, I knew this mission was going to be fucked up-““It’s going to be okay. We aren’t in any harm. Cynthia has people coming to help, I'm sure of it. It’s going to be fine.”Owen nodded.





	1. Settling In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the saf discord](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+saf+discord).



> description of attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of physical attack

Curt felt the sun warming his skin. the window’s curtin had been pulled back- Owen must’ve done it. He hummed, turned around, and suddenly felt the tip of his nose touch a chest; well, Owen’s chest to be exact. he smiled, moving closer to him. 

“Mm, morning, love,” Owen whispered, and Curt felt a soft kiss on his forehead. God, he lived for mornings like these- the sun heating the covers and their skin up as they laid there, eyes still shut, drinking in each other. Owen’s accent was sways slightly stronger when he first woke up, which curt found adorable. 

“Morning,” he muttered into his chest. 

“It’s almost 9,” Owen shifts, leaving Curt to face the void. “We have to leave for the plane soon,” he spoke as he got up, stretching. Curt opened his eyes and looked at the sliver of skin that appeared when owen’s shirt rode up. 

“Can’t we stay here?” he sat up, wrapping his arms around Owen’s waist as the other turned to face him.

“I wish, but it’s an important mission,” 

“The only thing important is that ass,” 

Owen laughed. “Curt!!” 

Curt laughed along with him.“I’m serious! the mission is stupid- go to Poland for a meeting with advisers on Russia. it’s dumb and you know it,” 

“It’s stupid, but it’s the job,” he turned, forcing Curt’s hands to fall off his waist to move to the bathroom. “Besides, were only there for three days tops. getting there, meeting and-“ he clicked his mouth “home,”

“Home for you,” Curt sighed, getting out and to the hotel dresser, starting to throw his clothes in his duffle bag. they packed light, of course. “I have to go back to the empty apartment, without you,” he gave him that beat puppy look that Owen couldn’t resist. Owen rolled his eyes, but he smiled and waltzed over to his boyfriend, letting his arms fall onto Curt’s shoulders. 

“You’ll be fine,” 

“Yeah, but I shouldn't have to be,” he whined back.

“Hey, we have three days together- that’s better than nothing, I'd say,” 

Curt nodded in response. Owen loved how Curt just said how he felt, no matter how angering or rude or hot it was. He spoke his mind, and Owen adored that. He kissed him gently, taking in how the sun’s warmth had heated his lips just enough to feel nice and make him taste like sunshine, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Curt kissed back, getting slightly more aggressive. Owen pulled back and gave a breathy laugh. 

“Save it for tonight, honey, we have to leave,” 

Curt gave an over-the-top pout, but he quickly smiled it off. They grabbed their suitcases and bags, heading out for the plane. 

~~ 

The plane ride felt relatively fast- they slept a bit more, talked, occasionally made out, all the normal things one does. it wasn’t until they were playing their third round of chess that Owen finally spoke up. 

“Is this even safe?” 

Curt chuckled. “if you want to move your queen and let me win, then of course it’s safe!”

“I mean it Curt,” He put down his queen, and looked at him. “is this mission safe? all we know is the meeting. and with The Soviet Union right next to Poland, and the war could start any minute. how can we know this is safe?” 

Owen never fretted about missions. if he did, it was after they started when they were trapped in some building about to explode. seeing owen openly sorry before a mission even started left curt on edge; he tried his best to comfort owen. “I'm sure it’s fine- the UN wouldn’t send us for the mission if it wasn’t safe,” 

“That’s exactly why they send us,” he deadpanned. 

“Right.” 

It was quiet for a bit longer until the intercom announced the plane was descending and to take a seat. “I'm still wary, you know,” 

“I know,” 

Owen stares out of the small plane window, watching the swirls of white and light blue fly above them as they descended further closer to the surface. 

When they touched down, Curt stood, grabbing his bag, and pulled Owen’s suitcase out. “You shouldn’t bring so much to work,” 

Owen smiled, getting up and taking the suitcase from him. “And you shouldn’t wear the same three things,” 

Curt sucked in a breath. “Ooo, how shall I ever recover from such a low blow?” he acted offended, then Owen ruffled his hair and Curt kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be fine, I promise,”

Owen nodded, deciding to ignore the tight feeling in his stomach. 

After getting off the plane, the rest of the night went relatively smoothly. They were greeted with a black SUV on the runway, M16 uniformed men holding the back doors for them. Owen even recognized them- twins, one with brown eyes and one with blue, both with blonde hair. Ethan and Gavin Hyde, if he remembered correctly. He nodded at them, but they uncharacteristically did nothing in return. Owen played it off as professionalism. 

He and Curt spent most of the hour long car ride leaning on one another, trying to make it seem like they were just two friends tired from a long day (who knows if it worked). Once the car stopped, the two men separated, stepping out of the car to grab their things, and checked into the hotel. 

Walking in, Owen felt a sense of deja vu. “You feel like we’ve done this before, Mega?” 

“We did this exact thing this morning, honey,” Curt set his bag down on the right twin bed. 

“I mean, we’ve been doing this a lot,” 

“I’m aware,” Curt pushed his twin closer to Owen’s. 

“Something feels wrong,” Owen started pacing, his senses nagging at him. Run, get away, they said. He heard the movement of the bed stop, and felt arms wrapping around his shoulders. He leaned into the touch. 

“Everything is fine, Owen, I-“ Curt’s watch started buzzing. “Hello?” he put it close to his face. Owen strained his ears. 

“Mega,” Cynthia’s voice was on the other side, but she didn’t sound very happy. 

“Cynthia! Darling, how have you been?” Owen asked, quite delightful really, but Cynthia snapped back, her voice sharp. 

“Listen, boys, are you still in the hotel?” 

“Yes, we are, why are you asking?” Curt asked before Owen. 

“Stay inside,” she sounded panicked, even through her pissy facade. Owen started to become nervous. 

“Why?”

“Just, trust me okay?” 

“Oka-“ Curt started to reply, but with his hesitance, Owen jumped in. 

“Why? Cynthia, what’s going on?” 

She took a moment before she replied. Never a good sign. “It’s completely shit, but there’s a possibility that some important people on the other side know you’re both there,” 

“Who? which people?” Owen pried more. He knew they should’ve stayed in bed this morning. 

“Owen-“ 

“That’s enough, Cynthia. thank you for warning us. We’re staying here until further notice,” Curt cut her off, and ended the call. 

“Curt!” Owen cried, trying to start up another call. 

“Owen, calm down!” He swiped his hand away from Owen’s shoulder, pulling away. Owen turned to face him. 

“I can't calm down, Curt! I knew this was a bad idea, I knew this mission was going to be fucked up-“

Owen was cut off by Curt kissing him. It was hard, but reassuring. Before he could start to kiss back, Curt pulled away and rested his hands on Owen’s shoulders again; just like they always do.

“It’s going to be okay. We aren’t in any harm. Cynthia has people coming to help, I'm sure of it. It’s going to be fine.”

Owen nodded. He didn’t believe anything that Curt said, but he’d go with it for the sake of keeping things calm and controlled. 

“Come ‘ere,” Curt beconked, moving to the combined twin beds. Owen followed, and watched as Crt laid down and patted the spot between his legs. Owen complied, laying in the spot and resting his head on Curt’s chest. “it’s okay,” Curt whispered, planting a kiss in Owen’s hair. Owen sighed softly, letting himself slip into sleep. 

~~

A sudden crash outside the hotel room started owen from sleep. He looked up at Curt (asleep, good) before slowly moving out of his lap and closer to the door. He heard another small crash, followed by a muffled language he couldn’t understand. Possibly German? Polish? He should know this. A moment from inside the plane, and he grabbed the knife from his pant pocket, turned around, and put the blade to the person’s throat. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Curt’s (now wide awake) voice whispered defensively. Owen lowered the blade. 

“Sorry, love,” owen muttered back; he turned around, extending his arm across Curt’s chest. “I heard something outside,”

Curt didn’t say anything, but Owen took that as an understanding. suddenly, there was a knock on their door. He jumped, and Curt placed a hand on his shoulder. They both shared a look before moving to the door as another knock rang through the hotel room. Owen opened the door, moving his body to be completely in front of Curt’s.

Two men stood at the entrance. Ethan and Gavin Hyde, Owen recognized. His body untensed for a moment. “May we help you?” he asked. 

“Agent Carvour?” Gavin asked, and every muscle in Owen’s body screamed ‘run’.

“That’s me. What’s going on?”

Ethan and Gavin looked at each other. In the split second Owen got a better view of their clothes, he choked up. Gavin had a small red swastika carved into his hanging pocket watch. 

“Curt, get back,” he whispered, hoping the two men didn’t hear him. They did. 

The traitor twins grabbed onto him, one grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the room. the other pushed Curt back so he fell, and slammed the door shut, locking it from the outside. Owen could hear Curt screaming and banging on the door; Ethan grabbed Owen’s flailing arms and held them behind his back. He tried to fight back- kicking, screaming, hell, even biting, but Ethan acted quicker than his reflexes. He pushed his head into the hallway wall harshly. 

Owen blacked out.


	2. The Operation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> owen is tortured by german forces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains torture and operation with anesthesia. if you are triggered or marengo uncomfortable by this, please don’t read the chapter but the summary instead. stay safe <3

Owen woke up in room. His eyes blurred everything around the edge of vision, but from what he could tell it was dark, mainly concrete walls, with a small window a couple inches above his sitting head. Owen sat himself up from his slouching position, groaning as he did so. There was a sharp pain in his right side- it felt like his lung was going to collapse, deflate, and he would die gasping for air. That’s when he realized he couldn’t breathe. Well, he could, it just felt like he was being stabbed with every inhale and exhale. He slouched back down. it hurt worse, but at least he could breathe a bit better. 

“A collapsed lung caused by rib puncture,” a male voice spoke, making owen flinch (and groan in pain). “Left wrist sprained, and bruised everywhere. I'm honestly surprised you didn’t suffer worse,” Owen glared in the direction of the voice, to which the voice laughed in return. “Feisty one we got here!” he clapped his hands together. “well! we need to fix that! so, why don’t you tell us your name?” The man stepped out of the light. 

German, black hair, square jaw, hazel eyes; his slightly accented voice made owen believe he hasn’t lived in Germany for a long time. Or that they aren’t in Germany. The man walked over to a (what owen can tell) table, grabbing s clipboard and pen. “Come on, dear, what’s your name?” 

Owen spat on the hard cold floor. The man frowned. 

“Come on, now. it’s for the medical records,” What medical records? What the hell was going on? The man seemed to understand Owen’s confusion; he took off his glasses and set them on the table, moving closer to him. “It’s just a simple thing, doll-“ Southern US, Owen noted the man’s true accent when it shined through. “-it’s a small thing. We’re just going to fix your lung, then you’ll be good as new! We can’t have an agent of ours running around with injuries; who would want to fuck a pathetic thing with a lung that doesn’t work?” The smile the man gave him didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“My name is Agent Owen Carvour,” Owen finally spat out.

Owen speaking made the man very happy. “Delightful! quite a nice name, don’t you think?” He scribed the name onto the clipboard. “Shame it’s not yours anymore,” 

“What-“ Owen tried to ask, but then he coughed a bit, and his vision went white. The pain in his chest was unimaginable. 

“oh, don’t worry about that,” the man set down the clipboard, moving to the table again. “you’ll be used to this place in no time!” the cheery tone of his voice left owen shivering. the man picked up a mask, and owen heard a faint hissing sound. fuck.  
“my name is Stefan, if you’d like to know,” the man-stefan spoke as Owen he tried to get up, move away from this room, but when he tried to stand (adrenaline making him forget the stabbing pain from his lung) there were clinking notices. he was chained. 

“You bitch,” Owen gasped out. His breathing was labored, and he started to notice the pain again. 

“Now that’s not a very nice thing to say to your savior, is it?” Stefan asked. He looked at the mask, then at Owen. “Well, I'd say it’s time we got started!” he moved swiftly to Owen. He backed up, trying to escape the mask, but his back was met with a wall. He gasped, the air leaving his lungs, and Stefan took the opportunity to place the mask firmly against owen’s nose and mouth. Owen screamed, trying to fight the gasses from entering his system; but screaming only made it happen faster, and Owen saw his vision cloud and fade away as his felt his muscles relax. He didn’t want this. 

~~ 

The next time he woke up, Owen was facing a ceiling. He looked around, seeing no one. Something felt wrong. It was too calm, nothing was supposed to be this peaceful when he was in a situation like this. He saw doctors around him, with medical supplies that Owen couldn’t name and masks and gloves on their bodies. Owen wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, that something was wrong, but his voice wouldn’t work. The only thing that would move and operate correctly were his eyes. Everything else- his voice, arms, legs, head, fingers- stayed deadweight. He noticed one of the doctors saw that his eyes were open, but then continued to get ready. Owen wanted to curse him out. 

The next thing owen knew, he felt something inside his stomach. He couldn’t feel pain, to which he assumed it was his brain going into panic mode. But he felt something moving around, and he knew something was wrong. Was he being stabbed? Was he- oh. He remembered what Stefan said. We’re going to fix your lung. 

He was being operated. 

He tried to struggle, wiggle around, scream, cry, but nothing worked. He could only stare at the ceiling and prayed he was killed. He felt the discomfort of more medical tools being inside him, the hands moving around; he wished he could feel it. Anything would be better than this. Feeling the pain would distract him from the unnerving level of just discomfort that the tools made him. 

Curt, he thought, over and over. Curt, Curt Curt Curt.  
~~

The next time Owen could process anything, he was back in the cell, chained. He was laying down on a cot, which was a bit of an upgrade. But everything about the operation just replayed over and over in his head, and Owen couldn’t even bring himself to cry. The only good thing was that he could breathe normally now. He couldn’t see, but he was sure there had to be a nasty post opt. scar along his chest. He didn’t want to see it. 

“We meet again!” Stephan’s voice filled the cell as the door opened and shut. “You look well,” owen didn’t reply. “Are you feeling okay today?” 

“What’s your fucking job?” Owen sneered. It was the most energy he could put in. 

“I'm here to help you along the process,” 

“To what?” he asked, his voice was starting to fade. It took too much energy to think and talk at once. 

“To becoming your true calling, agent!” Owen hated his pep. “You’re becoming a romeo of course!” 

“I'm not joining the likes of you, you filthy rats,” 

“Hm, and why’s that?” 

“Because-” owen used the last of his energy to speak with confidence. “- you can’t break me. I’m Owen Carvour.”


End file.
